Dreaming of Water
by Sentimental Star
Summary: **COMPLETE** Peter finds Aslan in England...but not without a little misadventure along the way...EDIT: FINAL CHAPTER IS UP!-Brotherfic. Book and Moviebased.- -SPOILERS for VoDT-
1. Dark Shores

**WARNING:** Intense moments and _**SPOILERS**_ ahoy! If you haven't seen the newest movie, yet, and don't want it to be spoiled, you may want to wait until you see it to read this.

_**Soundtrack Recommendations:**_ "Into Battle" and "Time to Go Home" from the _VoDT_ movie soundtrack.

_**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing in this marvelous universe; it all belongs to C. S. Lewis and Walden Media.

_**Author's Note:**_ ::sighs:: Like so many things I seem to have written recently, this developed from a one-shot into a _two_-shot. I wanted to get too much into this chapter! ::grins:: In any case, I finally saw _Voyage of the Dawn Treader_ in theaters this week—and I _loved_ it! It was so much better than I had anticipated—Eustace was fantastic, Caspian's character matured _marvelously_, and to top it all off, Edmund and Lucy got some serious screen time, too! Granted, it wasn't all violets and roses—there were a few things I wished they had developed more and others that I had envisioned quite differently ::grins again::, but I still loved it. Originally, this was to be more book-based than movie-based, but that plan effectively got tossed out the window when I went to see the movie. I hope you approve!

_**P.S.**_ This is part of my _Brother Lessons_ series and is, in fact, one of those moments I had envisioned rather differently—so I typed it up my way ::grins::. Please enjoy!

_**Rating:**_ T/M (for intense moments)

_**Summary:**_ Peter finds Aslan in England…but not without a little misadventure along the way…(Book and Moviebased) (Brotherfic) (_NO_ Slash)

"_**Speech"**_

_**/Personal Thoughts/**_

_**Quotes (Italics)**_

Peter's Age: 16

Edmund's Age: 13

Lucy's Age: 11

Eustace's Age: 10

_Timeframe: During (and after) _Voyage of the Dawn Treader

**(1)** _The Voyage of the Dawn Treader_ p. 509 in _The Complete Chronicles of Narnia_ (Paperback)

_Dreaming of Water_

_By Sentimental Star_

**Dreaming of Water**

_Chapter One: Dark Shores_

_

* * *

_"_Fools!" said the man, stomping his foot with rage. "That is the sort of talk that brought me here, and I'd better have been drowned or never born. Do you hear what I say? This is where dreams—dreams, you understand—come to life, come real. Not daydreams: dreams."_ (1)

* * *

(In England)

The first thing Peter was aware of when he "woke" was a black tunnel all around him. He might have worried if the sudden _slap, slap_ of waves against—for all purposes necessary—a ship's wooden hull hadn't jerked his attention to the path in front of him (and when had _that_ got there?).

It was white. _Pure _white. And made of what appeared to be light.

Intrigued, he ventured forward, even knowing he at least ought to be _slightly_ more cautious. The sharp, briny scent of ocean drifted faintly across his olfactory senses as he walked and, gradually, he became aware that his were not the only footsteps: the soft _pad, pad_ of four paws came from in front of him.

His heart leapt. Could it really be…?

There was a pleased rumble and then…

"_Aslan_!" he heard himself shout joyfully, and darted forward. "Oh, Aslan, I'm so-!"

But at that precise moment, Aslan (for the Great Lion, it surely was) whipped around and padded ahead.

Knowing he was expected to follow and sensing that Aslan did not wish him to speak, Peter lengthened his strides to match the Lion's pace.

Wherever Aslan stepped, light spread from his paw and radiated outwards into the darkness surrounding them. It was only when the darkness started fighting _back_ that Peter grew a little nervous. He trusted Aslan implicitly, of course (and it had taken him some time to reach that point), but the night pressing in on either side of them was stubborn—and, if Peter had to be completely honest, rather frightening.

Yet they continued on, one step at a time. By the time they seemed to have reach their destination (wherever their destination _was_), a swelling ache had built up in the center of Peter's chest: the darkness was thicker here; even Aslan's light seemed to have difficulty shining, though it still flickered steadily on beside him.

Then the sounds started:

_Roars. Screams. The twang of bow strings; the clang, clatter, and clash of swords._

"_Edmund__!"_

Peter stopped dead. /_Lucy?_/ he thought incredulously.

He felt a nudge in his back. Aslan had circled around and was nosing insistently into his spine.

_The creaking and cracking of timbers. The snapping of ropes and the crashing of waves and water._

"_Harpoons! Get the harpoons!"_

Peter's mind froze. /Is that…it can't possibly be…/

"_Caspian…! Quickly! I'll try to keep it off the port bow!"_

"_Ed__…! NO!"_

Peter started running, Caspian's cry causing a hot flash of panic to rip through his thoughts.

Aslan roared: _"High King Peter!"_

Bounding forward, he twined his great body around Peter, halting any further progress.

The Lion stood head and shoulders above Peter, much taller than Narnia's High King ever recalled him being. It was enough to distract the sixteen-year-old from struggling any further, and he stared up at Aslan, slightly shocked.

Aslan's large golden eyes saddened. "We may only watch," he murmured. "Watch…and have faith."

That's when the images started:

_Fire. Smoke. Fog and glints of steel._

_Waves. Lighting. Rocks and crashing foam._

"_Face your fears! Face them, I say!"_

_A dragon wheeled by the gilded prow of a ship, all scales and flame and wings. A Talking Mouse rode on its head, brandishing a rapier and wearing gold circlet around one ear._

/Reepicheep!/ the thought shot through Peter's mind and his breath caught. He strained in Aslan's hold, trying to reach those he _knew_ lay ahead. "Aslan, please! Are we…?"

"_We_ are simply observers, Dear One, if only for now. It is _they_ who must let us in," Aslan's eyes, golden and solemn, regarded him gently.

Peter's fists clenched at his sides, one grasping at the hip where Rhindon had once hung. "But, Aslan, surely I can-!"

At that precise moment, Peter's heart nearly leapt out of his throat when his eyes lighted upon one figure in particular. /Oh, God…oh, Aslan…oh, Edmund, _NO_!/

IOIOIOIOIOI

(In Narnia)

Tossed like chafe upon the wind by the sudden lash of the sea serpent's tail, Edmund dropped the eight feet off the mast to the deck below. A broken net slowed his descent only marginally and his head and back collided with a snapped section of the _Dawn Treader_'s rail, causing him to choke on a cry of dismay and pain.

Somewhere in the background he heard Lucy scream and Caspian yell, but after a long, dizzying moment in which he could not tell sky from sea, Edmund staggered to his feet. Grabbing the first of the nearest net's handholds, Narnia's youngest king hauled himself up onto the netting that led to the crow's nest.

Swinging from rope to rope, Edmund propelled himself upwards, completely ignoring the throbbing of his head and the thrashing of the ship. From handhold to handhold, he single-mindedly forced himself towards the crow's nest and the top of the mast, his brother's sword a comforting weight strapped to his hip.

His fingers eventually gripped the wooden rim of the crow's nest. Hauling himself up and ignoring the splintering wood, Edmund raised his head…and came face to face with the last apparition in the world he wanted to see.

His face blanched as white as his knuckles. "You don't belong here. You _can't _be here—you're dead." His voice trembled.

"Dead?" Jadis's voice was as deceptively enchanting and as sickeningly sweet as Edmund remembered it. "Foolish child, you can _never_ kill me. Why would you even want to? I can give you anything…anything at all, you know. Anything that your heart desires."

"_Witch_," Edmund's voice shook as he heaved himself over the side of the crow's nest. "Hear me now..." He took a step forward, gripping so tight to the pommel of Peter's sword that his fingers lost as much blood as his face had. "You owned me once…" Another step forward; he would have been pleased to note that she had drifted backwards if he hadn't been so utterly _terrified_ of the apparition in front of him. "You enslaved my soul…" he took another step forward; she drifted another step back. "You denied me my freedom and threatened _everything_ I held dear…" Once more he stepped forward; once more she drifted back. "You promised me power, riches, servants, and a kingdom. You promise me these same things now, and yourself as my queen besides. You are a temptress and an enchantress, Witch; you are _everything_ a foolish, greedy man could ever desire…"

The Witch drew herself up now, standing there stiffly and raising her chin haughtily. Although Edmund's heart hammered in his chest, he took another several steps forward until he could stare her straight in the face. "But I am no longer that man, Witch. I never _was_ that man…" He paused, a strange smile flitting across his lips. "You no longer own me, Witch," she jerked back in shock, stunned by the absolute conviction permeating his voice, "_you never will_."

She shrieked as Rhindon pierced her translucent chest.

Peter yelled as white light exploded around his brother. Only those on the _Dawn Treader_ noticed as it disintegrated the sea serpent, as well.

IOIOIOIOIOI

(In Dreams)

When his sight cleared, Edmund found himself entirely surrounded by sunlight. Panting heavily, he crashed onto his hands and knees. Shaking his head in order to clear it, the thirteen-year-old felt his fingers grasp grass, cool and smooth to the touch. A scent flowed around him—sweet and salty all at once. It was familiar; one he had cherished all his life.

With a gasp, Edmund collapsed within the warm paws that abruptly circled him, knowing at last that he was safe. "Aslan…" he quavered.

There was a deep, rumbling purr and a velvet nose nuzzled into his cheek. "Well met, Son of Adam."

Larger than he remembered him and face tenderer than he ever recalled seeing it, Aslan lay curled around him. Gently, the Lion touched his nose to Edmund's, "Very well met, indeed," he murmured. Pride blazed in those golden eyes.

Edmund blushed, then chuckled faintly, feeling the last tremors from adrenaline run their course. "Well, I wouldn't call it _well_ met, but I _am_ glad to see you, Aslan," his voice dropped to a whisper, and he buried his head in the Lion's mane. "Ever so glad. I knew you'd come."

The pleased rumble that response elicited penetrated Edmund to his very core: "Peace be yours, Dear One. She is gone, as she has been for many years. She cannot come back again."

Even as Aslan spoke, something drastic shifted inside of Edmund. For seventeen years—seventeen _years_—this had haunted him; _she_ had haunted him. He could forget for a little while, but always, in the back of his mind, her voice whispered—calling him unworthy, reminding him of his treachery and accusing him of forcing Aslan's paw and the Lion's sacrifice.

Peter and their sisters had toiled endlessly to convince him that Aslan's sacrifice should _not_ be seen as his penance—but rather, as his salvation. More simply and most importantly, they implored him to see it as an expression of the Lion's love.

For the first time since he had ever entered Narnia, Edmund believed it.

Any remnants of tension eased then, leaving Edmund literally shaking with relief. "I believe you, Aslan. I have _always_ believed you."

Aslan purred. "You will return soon, King Edmund; this horror is finished. It is done. Your sister and your friends await you."

Edmund drew in a not entirely steady breath. "As-Aslan…" he coughed, then cleared his throat. "May…may I see Peter? Just for a little bit? I-It doesn't have to be long, and…he doesn't even need to know it's me, but…"

Aslan chuckled. "Peace, my Son. In fact…" he gave a Lion's smile, abruptly unwinding his body from around Edmund; in his place stood a rather disoriented Peter. "He has been wanting to speak with you for quite some time."

IOIOIOIOIOI

The transition from almost total darkness to a flood of sunlight was rather disconcerting. Shaking his head, Peter squinted against the brightness, trying to take in his surroundings. A moment later, wide blue eyes fell on his thunderstruck little brother.

"_Edmund_!" Peter darted forward, desperate to close the distance between them.

After staring in absolutely stunned disbelief for several minutes straight, Edmund staggered to his feet and stumbled forwards, more or less collapsing in his brother's arms.

He expected to go right through him.

He didn't. Instead, he blinked rapidly when he realized Peter's body was solid. "You…you're r-really here."

The Lion's warm laughter rang in the background. Peter laughed upon hearing it: "You could say that. Wherever 'here' is."

Tears proceeded to flush down Edmund's cheeks.

Mortified, the thirteen-year-old buried his face in Peter's nightshirt, but the tears did not stop coming. Fisting his hands in the nightshirt's cotton fabric, Edmund clung to him, furiously ordering his tears to subside—but they wouldn't. Not in the presence of his older brother, no matter how much the younger king wished them to.

Peter's face softened, and his eyes saddened, swirling to gray. Gently, he rested his lips against Edmund's dark hair, tilting his head down to rest his forehead against his brother's, "I'm sorry I didn't realize something was wrong much sooner," he whispered.

IOIOIOIOIOI

Edmund's tears, though silent and swallowed up by the cotton of Peter's nightshirt, took a long time to cease. By the time they had run their course, a thoroughly exhausted Edmund half lay in Peter's arms, nearly asleep.

"Ed?"

Tenderly, Peter swept back the dark hair from his brother's face and leaned down, gaze worried. His last memory was of Edmund faced with a giant sea serpent at the top of a half-broken mast. Edmund, clearly, had seen something else. And Peter had a few guesses what—or rather, _whom_, the younger king had seen.

Edmund stirred, mumbling in momentary complaint, but otherwise remained still.

With a soft, relieved laugh, Peter sat back on his heels, shoulders relaxing as he drew his brother further into his lap. Then he began to hum, slowly swaying them.

This finally seemed to rouse Edmund. As the younger man forced himself towards full awareness, Peter hushed him, "No. Sleep, Ed. You probably need it more than anything else right now."

There was a muted sound of protest—half frustrated growl, half choked back sob. Edmund stubbornly shook his head, clutching tight to Peter's nightshirt.

In spite of everything, Peter chuckled (if rather thickly), lightly squeezing his ribs, "Ed, you're how old? Twelve? Thirteen? You haven't acted like this in ages."

Edmund struggled to sit upright. "No. Don't…don't want to find you gone. Scared."

Understanding, love, compassion, and affection suffused Peter's features. "Oh, _Ed_…You know I'm not gone. Not really. You'll always be able to find me here," he lightly tapped Edmund's chest, just over his heart, "always right here."

Edmund still fought the pull of sleep, but no longer quite so hard—and he was quickly losing. He succeeded for a few moments, at least: "Know _that_," he muttered. "Just…miss you, Peter," he yawned. "A lot. With Lu, and Eustace, and Caspian, but not the same," he yawned again. "Want to be home. 'S been too long."

Peter shook his head, touched deeply by his little brother's declaration. Tears stood in his eyes, but he smiled. "You'll be home soon, and you'll see me then. And when you do, I want to hear all about what happened with Caspian and _Eustace_ of all people."

Edmund gave a final yawn, eyes fluttering shut. "Shall," he breathed, burrowing his face into Peter's shoulder as he curled up in his brother's lap.

His only answer?

"I love you, Edmund," Peter whispered, as everything around them faded to black.

IOIOIOIOIOI

(In England)

When Peter woke—really woke—he found himself sitting up in his bed at the Professor's cottage. The sheets had tangled themselves around his legs and his arms extended outwards, as if they still held Edmund. Tears trickled down his cheeks.

Sniffing quietly and unobtrusively, Peter scrubbed at his cheeks with his arms, trying to rid them of the droplets streaming down his skin.

By the gray light issuing through the crack in his window's shutters, it wasn't even dawn, yet. Unable to remain in bed and unwilling to attempt sleeping, Peter slid out of bed and quietly slipped out of his room, intending to make himself a cup of tea in the kitchen.

He pulled up short in its threshold.

Sitting at the table, quite serenely sipping at his cup of tea, Professor Kirke sat reading a thickly bound volume by candlelight.

Peter must have made some noise of startlement, because a moment later, the Professor had lifted his head and fixed the eldest Pevensie sibling with a calm gaze. He raised a single, bushy white eyebrow, "Up a bit early, aren't you, young one?" A smile lurked at the corner of his mouth and his hazel eyes twinkled behind their spectacles.

Peter received the distinct impression that his endearingly eccentric mentor had actually been expecting him for quite some time.

"S-Sir?" Peter's voice cracked and he coughed, clearing his throat. "I…I apologize if I woke you…" he trailed off uncertainly.

The twinkle in the Professor's eyes only heightened. He waved the younger man off. "Nonsense, dear boy! I am afraid I found myself quite enthralled with my reading," he held up the book with its gold- embossed cover, "and never bothered to check the time."

Uncertain whether to believe him, Peter only nodded jerkily and unfroze himself from the doorway, step light as he moved to join his tutor at the table.

The Professor's smile softened and he lightly patted Peter's knee when the sixteen-year-old took the seat he had pulled out for him. "Now," the elderly gentleman murmured, producing his pipe and lighting it as he leaned back in his chair, slowly starting to puff at it, "what seems to be the problem?"

So Peter explained, taking his time and trying not to let his voice crack again—about Aslan and Edmund and how the Lion had led him to his brother on that ship. He talked steadily, pausing only to sip at the tea cup the Professor had pressed into hands at some point.

While speaking of it, Peter realized just how _odd_ a dream it had been, although not as startling as it should have been.

It hadn't happened often: if one of the two brothers focused intently on the other, usually they could get the faint impression—the "feel"—of each other, but never any more than that. They had never actually been _transported_ to their counterpart; with a sudden leap of his heart, Peter wondered if—in those brief few minutes—he had actually _been_ in Narnia. Despite all rational thought, despite Aslan's mandate that he was never again to return…he wondered.

Professor Kirke smiled around his pipe.

IOIOIOIOIOI

"Well, young one," the Professor remarked once Peter had finished his tale, standing up from the table and stretching, "I believe it is time to give these old bones some rest." He slid the book he had been reading in front of Peter's hands, "There you are; one of the world's finest works of literature."

The book had _The Holy Bible_ stamped across its front in gold letters.

Peter scrunched up his nose, but obligingly pulled it towards him.

The Professor chuckled, "Not your typical reading, young one?"

Peter had the good grace to look sheepish. "Not really, sir," he admitted softly.

Professor Kirke's lips quirked into a small, knowing smile, "I must confess, I felt just the same when I was your age. Though…I did quite like the first and second chapters of Genesis. It has only been very recently that I have realized why. But what you are looking for might be better sought in the forty-ninth chapter of Genesis, I think. Or the New Testament."

The sixteen-year-old gazed up at him curiously, but the elderly Professor merely gave him an enigmatic smile. Gently, he ruffled the boy's hair, "Do not sit up too late, now—we are expecting company later today."

Peter blinked. /Company?/

The Professor kept his enigmatic grin. "Happy reading, young man."

As he moved to head back towards the doorway of his bedroom, the sixteen-year-old's hand on his arm made him pause momentarily, "Professor, please wait."

The older man raised his other bushy white eyebrow, gazing back at the teenager. "Yes, Your Majesty?" he inquired mildly.

Peter flushed. "H-How did you know…I'd be up?"

The smile blossomed fully. Lightly, the Professor tapped the side of his nose, extraordinary hazel eyes twinkling merrily. "Ah…let us just say…a good friend told me."

Warmth blossomed in the pit of Peter's stomach and he nodded, a smile curving his lips.

The Professor gave a warm smirk in return. "'Til breakfast, young one."

After gazing thoughtfully at Professor Kirke's retreating back for a few minutes, Peter pulled the Bible towards him and began reading.

IOIOIOIOIOI

(Several Hours Later)

Breakfast found Peter sitting back in his chair and staring at the blue tiling of the Professor's kitchen wall, brooding.

In hindsight, he really should have guessed it.

Before the war, before the bombings and threat of invasion, the four Pevensie children had—like many of their age-mates—attended church school every Sunday. Peter had known his Bible stories forwards, backwards, and inside out. So Aslan's form as a Lion, his ability to bring back those dead and those turned to stone, his status as the Son of the Emperor-over-the-Sea, and—especially—his resurrection (actually, it should be "He" and "His" here, shouldn't it?), should have been ample proof of His identity in this world.

But he had never made that connection. Until now.

It would be easier, he mused, to continue thinking of Him as Aslan and not Jesus (actually, to be frank, it made him more than a little uneasy). But the very fact that He _was _Jesus, created more questions than it did answers.

Peter, therefore, clung to the familiar. /You don't mind, do you?/ he posed the question silently, gently closing the Bible's cover and standing up to stretch.

In response, he thought he heard a well-pleased roar—but that could have only been his imagination.

_Tbc._


	2. Daylight

_**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing in this marvelous universe; it all belongs to C. S. Lewis and Walden Media.

_**Author's Note:**_ Okay, so what was originally supposed to only be a two-shot has now turned itself into a _three_-shot. Which officially debunks my claim that my _Brother Lessons_ series is one-shots only. ::sighs and laughs:: Wow, I had forgotten how unpredictable writing can sometimes be. This is a shorter chapter (I _did_ want it longer, but…::shrugs sheepishly::), but no less interesting than the first chapter, I hope! Please enjoy!

_**Reviewers:**_ All _27_ of you, thank you!

_**Rating:**_ T

_**Summary:**_ Peter finds Aslan in England…but not without a little misadventure along the way…(Book and Moviebased) (Brotherfic) (_NO_ Slash)

"_**Speech"**_

_**/Personal Thoughts/**_

_**Quotes (Italics)**_

Peter's Age: 16

Caspian's Age: 15

Edmund's Age: 13

Lucy's Age: 11

Eustace's Age: 10

_Timeframe: During (and after)_ Voyage of the Dawn Treader

_Dreaming of Water_

_By Sentimental Star_

**Dreaming of Water**

_Chapter Two: Daylight_

(In Narnia)

A hard, slightly lumpy surface pressed against his head and back. /I'm not in my hammock,/ he deduced hazily, wincing as he became aware of the god-awful throbbing sensation radiating throughout his entire mind. /By Aslan, what have I done _this_ time?/

Groaning, he cracked his eyes open. Almost immediately, sunlight seared through his eyelids and he bit back a gasp, slamming them shut—the daylight was entirely too bright, no matter how much he welcomed it.

At that moment, the cool, smooth rim of a bottle touched his lips. Unfortunately well-versed in this ritual, Edmund tilted his head back and parted his lips. The bottle's holder carefully tipped a single drop into his mouth.

Sweetness and heat rushed down his throat, alleviating the throbbing of his head within seconds. He sighed gratefully, very willing to fall back asleep now that he had come to the end of his ordeal. Never mind his inability to remember what that ordeal actually _was_.

A hand gently squeezed his shoulder, its touch hopeful. "Ed…?"

/Not Peter,/ his mind reported muzzily; but it was comfort and, with a plaintive groan, he leaned into its bearer.

"Edmund…" this voice, more feminine than the first, was soft and slightly choked. A small hand cradled his cheek—giving comfort, but also asking for it.

He turned his head and slowly nuzzled into it. A tremulous laugh came from above him.

/Still not Peter,/ his mind supplied; but it was Lucy, and that was just as important.

"Lu…?" he slurred, cracking his eyes open at last.

Lucy and Caspian knelt beside him on the deck of the _Dawn Treader_. His little sister looked seconds away from bursting into tears, even though she was smiling fit to outshine the sun.

"Lu?" he croaked again, a bit more coherently, as he carefully lifted his head.

Lucy choked back a strangled laugh, promptly throwing herself at Edmund and knocking him flat onto his back.

While his sore head colliding with the wooden deck nearly undid everything the cordial had redone, Edmund did not particularly care: Lucy's body was blessedly solid and warm; even as he wrapped one arm around her waist, the other came up to cover half his face as he squeezed his eyes shut and attempted to ignore the tears abruptly streaming down his cheeks.

His armor muffled Lucy's voice as the youngest queen gratefully murmured over and over, "Ed! Ed! Ed! We did it…we _did_ it!"

Dampness touched his skin—apparently, Lucy was crying, too. Happily, but tears nonetheless.

Callused fingertips gently swiped his cheek. Blinking against additional moisture, Edmund squinted up at the dark blur hovering over the two of them. It quickly resolved itself into Caspian's tired, elated face grinning down at him.

As Caspian's words, "…_I think of you like my brother, Edmund_," echoed in his head, Edmund reached up with his free arm and grabbed the startled king in a fierce, impromptu hug, holding two of his dearest friends close.

Caspian sputtered out a strangled laugh, more than willing to return the favor. "By Aslan, Ed, you scared us! Is he _normally_ so idiotically heroic? How ever did Peter manage to cope with it?"

Lucy snorted softly, sitting up and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Most of the time he didn't."

As Caspian carefully helped her brother up, and Edmund finally released the other young man from his tight grip, Lucy asked, "What happened, Ed? One moment you were at the top of the mast and the next-"

"Aslan happened, Lucy," he interrupted quietly; but when his little sister pressed him for more information, Edmund merely shook his head—still in tears, but smiling.

"I promise I'll tell you later, Lu," Edmund murmured, squeezing her shoulder. She had to be content with that.

At that moment, a sudden shout from the water below them redirected their attention. "Hi! Lucy! Down here! Down here, in the water!"

Lucy's eyes widened. Grabbing an unbroken rail, she hoisted herself up onto her tiptoes and peered down the _Dawn Treader_'s side into the water. A brilliant grin lit up her face, "_Eustace_!" she sang out happily.

The grinning boy in the water (looking very much _un_-like their cousin) waved ecstatically to her. "I'm a boy again!" By this point Edmund's head had joined Lucy's at the rail and their cousin's grin widened as he splashed some water up at the older boy's face (which, of course, didn't reach). "I'm a boy!"

"By Jove…" Edmund laughed.

Lucy thumped him on his arm. "Let's get him back up here, come on!" and she darted off to find Caspian, her joyful laughter trailing after her.

IOIOIOIOIOI

Several minutes later, a shivering, but grinning Eustace had been brought back aboard the _Dawn Treader_. Tossing a heavy blanket over the ten-year-old, Caspian warmly clapped him on the shoulder, before stepping back and allowing Lucy to fuss over her cousin.

Eustace tried to keep still as Lucy flitted about him worriedly, but eventually, he started fidgeting with his hands, feeling quite awkward. Having only recently been un-dragoned, he was completely unused to the attention his cousin was lavishing on him now.

A few minutes later, Lucy dropped a kiss on his cheek and stepped back, apparently satisfied with the results of her examination.

Eustace turned bright red. He was happy to see his cousins, of course—ecstatic, in fact—but why were they so pleased to see _him_? He'd been such a _beast_ to them for most of the voyage!

A faint chuckle redirected his attention to Edmund, who had joined them sometime during Lucy's examination. Flushing, Eustace peeked up at his older cousin, "'Lo, Ed," he mumbled.

Snorting warmly, the thirteen-year-old grabbed him in a strong hug that nearly cracked his spine in half.

Eustace yelped, squirming uncomfortably. "Wha-what….?" he stammered.

Another warm snort, this one rather thicker than the first, and Edmund pulled back, smiling. "Do you _not_ know what a hug is?"

Eustace turned even more bright red. "Oh. Umm…" He eyed his cousin speculatively as he was set back on his feet, not at all sure he could (or wanted to) handle this. "Could…could we maybe, um…do…do it again sometime?" After all, it hadn't been…unpleasant (actually, he was completely mortified—but that was beside the point).

In response, Edmund chuckled thickly and yanked him back into a tight hug.

Predictably, Eustace turned another three shades of red. Awkwardly, he shoved his arms around his cousin, not quite sure what to do with them but willing to try regardless.

Edmund coughed and sputtered and laughed; his cousin's hold was a little too tight, but he didn't really mind. It was enough that Eustace had even tried.

A moment later, they both looked up at Lucy and Caspian with identically warm, inviting grins.

Laughing brightly, Lucy moved to join them, hooking her arm into Caspian's elbow and yanking him after her before Narnia's young king could gracefully bow out.

Hugging out of sheer gratitude and joy for being alive, the four young people ended up in a happy pile, riding on the wave of euphoria that almost always accompanied any well-fought victory.

IOIOIOIOIOI

Before they could sort out whose limbs were tangled in whose, a shout came from the half-splintered crow's nest: "My Kings! My Lady!"

Such excitement and urgency rang in that call (none of the four being quite sure of its origin) that they jerked themselves to their feet, hands flying to their weapons, and glanced wildly around.

"There, my Lord!" Drinian's cry rang with more gladness than they had heard in it for weeks. "To the East!"

The three young men and one young woman rushed to peer over the starboard railing of the ship. When Edmund saw what awaited them there, he grinned. Circling Caspian's shoulders with his arm, he squeezed tightly. "Go greet your people, King Caspian," he murmured.

The older king darted a lightning quick glance at Edmund's brown eyes. They simply shone happily, relief and joy in every speck of light.

Caspian caught in his breath. "Ed, you-" he blinked rapidly, in his heart realizing that he had been passed the final crown. Peter and Susan had already given him theirs, that awful day when they said goodbye. Now Edmund had given his and Caspian somehow thought Lucy would not take long to follow her brother's example. Already, he could feel that gift and its weight settling heavily on his head.

Gently, Edmund nudged him.

Rather certain he would not be able to speak at the moment, Caspian settled for gracing Edmund with a blinding smile and ran lightly over to Drinian where the ship's captain stood at the _Dawn Treader_'s prow. Narnia's young king raised his voice over the gentle _slap_, _slap_ of the waves. "_Hail, Narnians_…!"

Answering cheers floated back at them across the water.

IOIOIOIOIOI

Edmund turned to find Lucy watching him, a small smile dancing at her lips and her eyes glowing brightly. "That was well done, Ed," she stated softly.

A light blush dusted her older brother's cheeks and he shyly rubbed the back of his head. "It's what Aslan and Peter would have wanted done, Lu," he replied, just as quietly.

"Peter would have been proud," her slight smile turned into a warm grin, "and I'm sure Aslan is, as well."

Edmund lowered his eyes, suddenly looking worried. "Ed?" Lucy asked.

Before she could even begin to express the concern that barreled through her heart, Eustace's quiet voice spoke up, "So what does this mean…for you?"

Both Lucy and Edmund jerked, terribly startled.

Eustace flushed as their gazes immediately locked on him, knowing they had probably forgotten him momentarily and not at all sure it was his place to pry. That did not stop him from continuing, of course: "I mean, Caspian first greeted you as High King and Queen of Narnia, so…"

Edmund suddenly looked extremely uncomfortable and Lucy bit her bottom lip, alternating her worry between her brother and their cousin.

For perhaps the first time ever, Eustace found himself rushing to apologize. "I'm sorry, I know it's not-"

Edmund shook his head. "You have the right to ask, Eustace." He flashed a faint smile, "We _did_ drag you here with us, after all."

"Technically, it was Aslan who dragged me here and not you," their cousin pointed out bluntly.

It surprised a laugh from Edmund, who realized, with a startled sense of gratitude, that this was Eustace's rather heavy-handed way of forgiving them.

Lucy grinned, gently squeezing their cousin's neck with her arms. "Welcome home, Eustace."

It effectively derailed the younger boy's line of questioning: "_Lucy_!" he protested loudly, turning another four shades of red.

The older girl smiled sweetly. "You'll get used to it."

_Tbc._


	3. Dawn

_**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing in this marvelous universe; it all belongs to C. S. Lewis and Walden Media.

_**Soundtrack Recommendations:**_ "Under the Stars" and "Time to Go Home"—from _The Voyage of the Dawn Treader_ original movie soundtrack.

_**Author's Note:**_ Well, at long last it's here ::grins::! I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much as you've enjoyed the other chapters—I know I've certainly enjoyed writing it. I also hope you find that this is a satisfying conclusion to this little story of mine—so dig in!

_**Reviewers:**_ All _42_ of you, thank you!

_**Rating:**_ T

_**Summary:**_ Peter finds Aslan in England…but not without a little misadventure along the way…(Book and Moviebased) (Brotherfic) (_NO_ Slash)

"_**Speech"**_

_**/Personal Thoughts/**_

_**Memories/Quotes (Italics)**_

Peter's Age: 16

Edmund's Age: 13

Lucy's Age: 11

Eustace's Age: 10

_Timeframe: During (and after)_ Voyage of the Dawn Treader

**(2) **_The Voyage of the Dawn Treader_ p. 511 in _The Complete Chronicles of Narnia _(Paperback)

_Dreaming of Water_

_By Sentimental Star_

_Chapter Three: Dawn_

(In England)

After breakfast and a shower, the Professor sent Peter out to fetch several pails of water from the well in the cottage's front yard.

When Peter inquired why so much and why _now_ (the sixteen-year-old had been expecting a science experiment and hoping for more insight into their mysterious "company"), the Professor had responded cryptically, "Just in case."

…Which left Peter voraciously curious. Knowing only by the delighted twinkle in his mentor's eyes that he would like their apparent "company," Peter had all but run out the door.

Thirty minutes and four pails later, Peter found himself staring into the depths of the well as his mind circled back through the memories of his dream. Shutting his eyes tightly, he tried to block out the memory of his little sister's and Caspian's screams, of the voice he had really only heard once, face to face, slithering and entwining around his mind—of the image of his little brother falling eight feet off a broken mast and then climbing back up…only to come face to face with the specter that had haunted his nightmares for seventeen years.

How painful must it have been for Edmund to hear Her again, to _see_ Her again? After so many years (and one near miss) of believing Her dead?

Peter grimaced—he could only imagine. At least he'd been there for the aftermath.

His eyes snapped open and he stared down at his reflection until they burned. /Oh, _Ed_…/

The sixteen-year-old finally shook his head and rubbed his eyes with his fingers, trying to drive away their ache. Dropping the wooden bucket into the well and listening for its quiet splash, he began to haul it back up hand over hand with the rope.

Not even minding the water as it sloshed and spilled over the bucket's rim, Peter grasped the bucket and carefully poured the liquid it contained into the metal pail sitting on the wall of the well. Releasing the rope to let it drop back into the water, he set it down at his feet and sighed, resting his arms on the stones and his chin on top of his arms.

Lightly skimming his fingers across the aquifer's surface, the teenager contemplated his reflection with a furrowed brow as his thoughts—which had been buzzing through his mind since dawn—veered down another course.

/What made us so different?/ he wondered. /Surely there must have been hundreds—maybe even _thousands_—of other children who could have stumbled into Narnia. So why were _we_ chosen?/

His twin in the water, of course, offered no explanation.

Smiling faintly, Peter lightly splashed down with his hand. /There's nothing for it. Aslan would probably say it is someone else's story and not His to tell./

Still, Peter wondered. Realizing, however, that it did little good to think on it too long (that was Edmund's department), he sighed again and gripped the handle of the now full pail at his feet one-handed and prepared to head back inside.

As he turned in the direction of the front gate, he paused.

There, sitting at the end of the lane leading up to the Professor's cottage, was a black Rolls Royce.

/You know…/ he thought idly, /that looks an awful lot like-/

At that moment, one of the side doors swung open. Two figures emerged: one auburn-haired and petite, the other ebony and clearly in the midst of a growth spurt.

Blue eyes widened as dark eyes flashed around to settle on him.

"_Pete!_"

The pail Peter had been carrying dropped to the ground with a loud clatter. Water spilled across the grass and over his foot. Biting back a surprised yelp, Peter danced out of the way of the oncoming flood.

But even that was soon forgotten: his heart thudding in his chest, the sixteen-year-old squinted, trying to make out the features of the two figures now dashing towards him down the lane.

"_Peter_!"

The shorter of the two figures waved ecstatically as her sun-lit auburn hair whipped around her shoulders.

Peter blinked, and his eyes widened even further. "_Lucy_!" he exclaimed, darting for the fence.

Within moments he had vaulted the gate and bolted up the lane, arrowing for his two youngest siblings.

IOIOIOIOIOI

Edmund reached him first. Which perhaps was a blessing: Peter had not felt the absence of his brother this keenly since his campaign against the Northern Giants during the fourteenth year of their reign.

"_Pete-_!" Edmund cried ecstatically.

Peter swept his little brother clear off his feet and crushed him to his chest, nuzzling Edmund's nose, kissing his hair, doing everything physically possible to get _as close as_ possible, relishing the feel of a warm, solid body that wouldn't disappear as soon as it hit dawn.

Edmund chuckled self-consciously. "What, exactly, has gotten into you, Peter? Shouldn't _I_ be the one blubbering like an idiot right about now?"

Peter snorted thickly, knowing very well his brother was simply teasing him, and nuzzled his cheek again for good measure, before burying his face against the thirteen-year-old's neck. "You're staying tonight," Peter murmured into his skin, "and tomorrow, and the day after that, and for as many nights as I can convince the Professor to have you."

It was Edmund's turn now, and he snorted softly, twining his arms tightly around his brother. "Sentimental git," he muttered.

Of course, Lucy noticed that he really did not object all that vehemently, if the way he was now allowing Peter to cradle him close was any indication. Grinning tearily, the young queen felt her heart ease as she watched her two brothers' interaction.

During their last few hours on the_ Dawn Treader_, Edmund had seemed…very far away. Even Eustace had noticed, and asked her about it. Somewhere halfway through the two cousins' discussion, it had clicked:

"_He misses Peter…doesn't he?"_

_Lucy smiled sadly. "It's been more obvious these past few days, but yes, he does. You have to understand, Eustace, they haven't ever been separated like this before—a whole world away from each other, and it's really starting to show. Edmund won't tell me much, but I suspect Aslan may have somehow brought Peter __**to**__ him while we were in that ghastly place" (meaning, of course, Dark Island)._

_Eustace frowned pensively. "I knew something had changed when I saw you during winter hols two years ago, but I didn't ever realize…"_

_Lucy shrugged, her eyes darkening slightly. "Our reign wasn't always happy—there were battles we had to fight, assassinations we had to face, and Peter and Edmund are ridiculously overprotective of each other. Of Susan and I, too, but our enemies soon learned that it was never wise to attack Edmund or Peter when the other was in the same vicinity."_

"_Yes," Eustace grumbled, unconsciously rubbing his nose, "I sort of learned that first hand."_

_The older girl finally grinned. "That's usually how these things happen."_

(End Flashback)

Now she let herself smile again, blinking back tears and trying to infuse all the amusement she felt at the moment into her voice, "You know, Peter, I'm starting to get jealous."

Blinking, Peter raised his head from Edmund's shoulder. Finding Lucy watching him expectantly from behind the thirteen-year-old, Peter straightened and gave a sheepish laugh. In all honesty he had momentarily forgotten their little sister and moved to remedy that now.

Grinning tremulously, he released Edmund and reached out for her, hugging her tightly once she was in his arms.

Lucy laughed, burying her nose against Peter's shoulder and inhaling the scent that both she and Edmund had desperately missed on the _Dawn Treader_.

He held her as long as he had held Edmund, and almost as tightly.

Eventually, Lucy took a deep breath and stepped back as their older brother released her, pressing her hands to his chest, before glancing over at Edmund. "We have a _lot_ to tell you," she murmured.

IOIOIOIOIOI

The three siblings stayed outside until mid-morning, moving only to find a more comfortable position for Lucy and Edmund to share their story. They took turns, Lucy speaking of Reepicheep, and Aslan's Country, and her adventure at the Magician's mansion. Edmund spoke of Caspian, of the seven lords and their swords, and of Deathwater and Eustace's un-dragoning. Prudently, neither younger sibling mentioned their misadventure with the slavers in the Lone Islands, merely glazing over it. Peter, luckily, was far too caught up in the story to even ask about it.

When Edmund finally completed their tale by speaking of Aslan and His words to them at the very end of the world, both younger brother and sister fell silent. Lucy had since perched herself on the fence next to Edmund; now, she quietly watched their flabbergasted older brother as he glanced uncomprehendingly between the two of them.

"…So let me get this straight," Peter managed breathlessly, still struggling to process their entire incredible story. "You were called to Narnia—by Aslan, no less—to help Caspian save it, and in the meantime, Eustace got dragged along, too, and eventually turned into a _dragon_? Which then proceeded to change him so much that he _fought_ Aunt Alberta to let you come here? Not to mention, you sailed to the _very end of the world_?"

Edmund smirked slightly. "That's the very much unembellished version of it, yes."

Even though his younger brother seemed to find his astonishment amusing, Peter noticed a certain tightness surrounding his eyes and frowned. "There's more. You aren't telling me something."

Edmund sighed and glanced down at his hands, frowning darkly at their palms. "Our voyage wasn't all adventure and heroism, Peter. Deathwater should be a prime example of that."

Their older brother's brow furrowed in confusion, "Well, one could hardly expect it to be. If you recall, our reign wasn't all sunshine and daisies, either."

Edmund shook his head irritably. "Don't you understand, Peter?"

Hiding his face, the thirteen-year-old turned away, deeply ashamed: "Caspian called me High King. And for one infinitely long moment I wanted it. I _craved_ it…more than anything else—even your love!" He grimaced angrily, disgusted with himself, and swallowed back bile. "Then, of course, I felt completely sick afterwards and could hardly swallow down the spiced wine Caspian brought out because I knew I would throw it up-"

At this point, Lucy's indignant voice cut into his self-deprecating tirade: "I _knew_ something wasn't right!" her cheeks were flushed and her eyes flashed furiously. "You told me you were fine—I just thought you were seasick!"

Edmund turned to her, smiling humorlessly. "Since when have I ever been seasick, Lu?"

His little sister's face was extraordinary to watch: she had opened her mouth, on the verge of giving him a piece of her mind, when it abruptly clicked shut and her face paled.

_He was right_. Edmund never _got_ seasick, a source of much jealousy for their older brother, who had always needed a couple of days to adjust to being at sea.

She groaned sadly. "Oh, _Ed_…! You know what this means, don't you? _Neither_ of us were quite ourselves on that ship—I'm your healer, I should have remembered that! It shouldn't have even been an issue!"

Edmund smirked faintly. "Not your fault, Lu. The only person who has that knowledge embedded in his wiring is Peter."

He did not quite dare look at Peter, even as he said this. Lucy rather suspected he feared their older brother's reaction to everything he had just revealed more than anything else.

Of course, Peter would have heard what Edmund _hadn't_ in his explanation: "Ed, you silly thing," and her younger brother jerked his head up at the pure fondness coloring their older brother's tone, "there is no one I would trust that title to _more_."

Edmund gave him a look of pure disbelief and complete incomprehension. "Did you _not_ hear what I just said? I _wanted_ your title. I was _jealous_ of you and Caspian. I craved unlimited _power_…! I treated Eustace _abominably_-!"

With every confession, Edmund's voice grew higher and higher, until he was nearly hysterical.

Peter resolved that particular dilemma by reaching out…and yanking his little brother flush against his chest.

"Ed, Ed, Ed!" it was a quiet, steady chant, murmured into the younger boy's neck, and it easily broke through Edmund's rapidly building hysterics. His little brother fell silent, and Peter nearly crushed his ribs with the strength of his embrace.

As a bewildered Edmund finally grew cognizant of the kisses showering his cheeks and forehead several long minutes later, and further found himself held so closely to Peter, his face grew steadily redder under the older boy's tender onslaught until at last he muttered, beet red, but much calmer, "Leave off, you great ninny. I'm perfectly fine now."

As he gently pushed himself away from Peter's chest, his older brother harrumphed, clearly making his opinion on _that_ subject known, but reluctantly released the younger king. Before Edmund could completely back away, however, the sixteen-year-old gently grabbed his chin, eliciting a startled flinch from the thirteen-year-old. "You were tempted, Ed," Peter stated clearly. His voice rang with absolute conviction, "You were tempted and you turned _away_…" He met his brother's eyes solidly, "_You did something that I could not_. Do you have _any_ idea how _strong_ that makes you? You turned away when I _couldn't_."

Peter was very determined to repeat this mantra endlessly, until it had been blazoned into his brother's memory or Edmund truly believed it. It had been with a painful hope that he had seen the shadows cleared from his brother's eyes—shadows that had haunted those beloved depths for seventeen _years_; he refused to allow them entry now.

Edmund, who had been squirming uncomfortably under his older brother's rather intense gaze, now froze, barely believing his ears. "_What_?" he breathed.

"The Witch, Ed," Peter patiently reminded him. "At Aslan's How."

Edmund snorted derisively. "Don't be ridiculous, Pete. That was hardly your-"

Peter merely raised an eyebrow, quietly smug at the realization that suddenly blazed in Edmund's eyes.

"—fault," the thirteen-year-old finished softly.

Peter kissed his forehead. "I was tempted, too, Ed," he continued to explain quietly, "and unlike you, I didn't have only a 'moment' and then get violently sick afterwards." He shook his head and chuckled ruefully, "You always did put me on something of a pedestal, but I am just as flawed as you are. And, as you so often remind me, Brother…_I am just as human as you_."

IOIOIOIOIOI

Lucy had remained perched quietly off to the side, very willing to let their older brother bang it into Edmund's rather thick skull that he had been wholly and completely forgiven. Now she spoke, smiling softly as she observed Edmund blush brightly and bury his face in Peter's shirt, "He was absolutely brilliant, Peter," her voice was warm and proud; Edmund blushed even brighter upon hearing it, "you should have seen him."

Her breath caught in her throat at the utter _tenderness_ filling their older brother's face as he gazed down at the dark head nestled against his heart. "I did," he murmured softly.

_

* * *

_

_...In a few moments the darkness had turned into a grayness ahead, and then, almost before they had dared to begin hoping, they had shot out into the sunlight and were in the warm, blue world again. And all at once everybody realized that there was nothing to be afraid of and never had been. _**(2)**

**

* * *

**

_The End_


End file.
